


Thalassophobia

by femmelesbian



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Deaf Character, M/M, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 15:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmelesbian/pseuds/femmelesbian
Summary: An experience that doesn't make Eric any less afraid of the ocean.





	Thalassophobia

Eric has never been a fan of the water.

This much, he is willing to admit. He was born and raised in the scottish highlands, it shouldn't really be a surprise- I mean, parents way back in the day had to convince their kids to stay out the water  _somehow_ , and apparently the best approach back then was to terrify them with stories of demonic water horses and seal women.

This may seem like an exaggeration, and Eric really wishes it was as he pulls his coat around him, shivering. He misses Ronald much more than he hates the ocean, but maybe next time he'll try and convince Ronald to stay with him for a week, instead of the other way around.

What he cannot deny, however, is how therapeutic it is to be on coast at nighttime. It's not the ocean itself that scares him, just what's inside it.

It's just relaxing to absorb everything around him- the way the sand feels against his skin, the way the ocean reflects the starry sky-  _not_ the sound of the ocean. Eric always made it a point to take out his hearing aid around the sea, because, while he's sure it might sound lovely to any hearing person, it isn't the nicest experience to have the sound of waves amplified ten times into your ears and be acutely aware of what it must sound like to drown.

He looks out at sea from the rock he's sat on, hair blowing in the wind- he  _really_ hopes he didn't wake Ronnie up while he was leaving, because it would be incredibly rude of him, but at least he knows Ronnie well enough for him to know that he's only gone to the coast for a while, and that he's not running away, and what the  _fuck_ is that in the water-

He puts his head closer to the water, much against his common sense- or really  _anything_ in his brain rather than sheer curiosity and a fit of panic, and sure enough, it's still there- two glowing circles in the midst of the dark mass of the ocean, and Eric really doesn't care how improbable it is that they're eyes, or any living thing,  _they're staring at him_.

So Eric stares back. Harder. If this thing is going to try to intimidate him like this, then he'll do it back, and better.

And that works for all of about two seconds until this...  _thing_ blinks at him. Slowly. Softly.  _Deliberately_.

Oh,  _fuck_ no.

This isn't some shitty horror movie, and even if it was, Eric is  _not_ the protagonist, and he knows damn well it's time for him run out faster than Usain Bolt being chased by a pack of wolves.

And that's exactly what he does- leaps up, adrenaline levels higher than a kid who's just been stabbed with an epi-pen, and  _something grabs his ankle._

Something wet, something scaly, and something altogether quite unwelcome on  _any_ joint he might possess.

He can't really remember what happens after that. He remembers trying to kick whatever it was in the face (should it have one) and screaming at it to fuck off. Hell only knows if selkies or kelpies or  _whatever the fuck that was_ hold a grudge and now he's got seven days to live, but his main concern was getting back to Ronald's house and remembering how to breath like someone who  _hasn't_ had a traumatic experience with the supernatural.

And quite honestly, that seems rather rational to him.

~*~

"I promise, you must have imagined it!" Ronald insists the next morning, walking close enough to Eric for him to hear without his hearing aid, because god knows that he's even  _less_ keen on hearing the ocean at invasive volumes now.

"How the  _fuck_ do you imagine kicking something in the face, Ronnie?" Eric replies, knowing damn well that he's right, and he really doesn't care how long Ronnie's lived here.

"Clearly you've never met someone you don't like very much," Ronald replies blandly, and Eric rolls his eyes while Ronnie rolls up the cuffs of his trousers "Look, you stay there, I'll prove it to you that there's nothing here-"he runs into the sea, water splashing against his shins and hair blowing gently in the wind, "Can you hear me still?"

"Good enough," Eric calls back, "I'm not going in with you."

"Of course," Ronald says, "Now, look, surely if there were  _anything_ a bit freaky here, I'd know by now? I'll tell you what's in here; it's fish, seaweed and litter, and that's  _literally_ it. Nothing to worry about! Except maybe a fish coming to give you a nibble, I suppose, but- What the  _fuck_ was that, Jesus  _fuck-"_

Eric cackles for all of about a second, until he makes the horrible- and amateur- mistake of looking down into the ocean, and much worse than before, he sees a  _face._

A face with eerily bright green eyes, prominent cheekbones, and fucking  _scales_ on the high points of said cheekbones, and the more he looks, the less adds up- gills on the neck. The constant rise and fall of its chest. Pearly, veinless skin. Whatever it is, it puts its hand to its mouth- oh, fuck  _off,_ it's got webbed fingers and everything- mouthing ' _you're welcome'_ at Eric, and somehow he just  _knows_ he can't tell Ronnie about this.

And not because he doubts that he saw it. Oh,  _hell_ no, he  _knows_ what he saw, he just knows that Ronnie would hate to know.

"I think it was just seaweed," Eric replies, lying through his teeth as he watches that...  _thing_ disappear into the ocean, and he's really not surprised that it has a tail- that or he's used up all his panic already, "Or some other kind of ocean shit."

"Fuck's  _sake,_ I bet I look a right cunt now-  _'it's just seaweed! Nothing to be afraid of!'"_ Ronald laughs at himself, getting out the water, "Should we get breakfast?"

"Sure," Eric replies, even though he's fairly sure that his stomach could barely handle it, "And yeah, you  _do_ look like a cunt."

Ronald just laughs, "See? Happens to the best of us."

Eric is more than certain that he'll be back here come midnight.

~*~

And he stays true to his word, sat vigilantly on that same rock, his phone flash light on, hyper-aware of the fact that he looks like a conspiracy theorist.

But, at two in the morning, he's fairly certain that nobody else is around to see.

And now, he need only wait.

Of course, he's willing to bet that tonight's the one night that the little bastard doesn't show up, but it's worth trying- who knows, maybe it'll have a little chat with him, but all he's really worried about doing is confirming that he is, in fact,  _not_ going crazy, and that his fear of the ocean as a by-product of the supernatural is perfectly justified.

He may well be the first person to ever sit on a rock waiting to be validated by a sea creature, but something tells him that maybe that's a world-record he should keep to himself.

He just decides to sit, and wait. He tries to calm himself a little. It really wouldn't be so bad if it  _wasn't_ real, but all the same-

"Are you ignoring me on purpose?"

 _Holy fucking shit_ -

"I'm  _talking_ to you, asshole- actually, I've been trying to talk to you since this time  _last night_ \- do you  _know_ how embarrassing it is to be a siren and have to get  _close_ to a human? I mean, I figured maybe you just don't swing that way, but you didn't even look over when I was singing- Hey, dickhead, are you even listening to me right now?"

Eric just stares at him in stunned bewilderment- a  _siren_.

He's sat on a rock at midnight, holding a torch, with a mermaid two feet in front of him calling him a dickhead.

This is  _not_ how he envisioned visiting Ronnie would go.

He slowly lifts up his flashlight to the the siren's face- that's  _definitely_ the same one that he saw this morning- flawless, partially scaly skin, glowing eyes, and  _wow_ , he's genuinely pissed off at him, huh?

"Come  _on_ then, how come you're ignoring me?"

"I- I didn't hear you," Eric replies, completely honest and stunned, "I didn't have my hearing aid in."

His face falls blank for a moment, and then back to royally pissed, "Are you fucking  _joking_?" He replies incredulously.

"No?" Eric replies tentatively, "Sorry?"

He shakes his head, "No, I'm not angry at you, just... in general. This is quite embarrassing, you see."

Eric stares at him, in awe, and the creature seems more than used to it- he's  _certainly_ not bad looking at all-

Eric shakes his head as he remembers last night, "It's pretty fucking rude to grab someone's ankle, either way," He says, with complete disregard to whether or not this is a supernatural being or not, because justice has finally come his way, "And you should at least tell me your name before you call me a dickhead."

He folds his arms, "It's not very polite to kick someone in the face, either," He snaps back, "And it's Alan."

"Eric." He replies hesitantly, and it finally starts to sink in that he's having an actual conversation with a siren.

"I know." Alan snaps back, and Eric frowns, taken aback- that's  _one_ way to find out that mermaids have physic powers.

"And, uh, sorry about that. But you could just speak up if you wanted my attention."

Alan smirks, pushing his hair out of his face and propping his elbows up on a ridge in the rock, pearly skin shining as water drips off it, "Well, I've got it now, I suppose."

And at the same time, Eric both remembers that sirens are meant to seduce people, and makes an active decision to  _not_ be seduced.

"Could you, uh, come any closer?" He turns bright red knowing how that sounds, and he puts immense effort into not tilting his flashlight towards his face, "Only, I can't hear you very well..."

Alan shakes his head, "Any further out the water and I'd be suffocating. Why don't you come closer?"

" _Fuck_ no."

Alan raises his eyebrows a little at the sudden outburst, and giggles, "Scared of the water?"

"Completely." Eric replies, without a hint of shame.

"You'd be practically immune to any siren if you weren't so fun to scare." Alan teases, resting his head on his arms, and Eric feels a little something inexplicable in his stomach when he realises that Alan has scales on his arms, too- blue ones, in fact, and they serve as a constant reminder that he is completely out of reach.

"So, you're all assholes, not just you?" Eric says before he can stop himself.

Alan just laughs, barely effected, "I guess so," He replies, "I mean, it gets boring after a while, there really aren't as many sailors as their used to be."

Eric suddenly remembers exactly what a siren actually is, and gets that same feeling in his stomach, "How old are you?"

"That's rude."

Eric can easily read that as 'I've completely lost count'.

It's quite humbling, really, to be talking to an immortal, supernatural being, and yet Eric can feel his fear ebbing away, "It's also rude to grab someone's ankle with no warning. I apologised to you."

"You kicked an immortal being in the face, you're really not in a position where you  _can't_ apologise."

"You really can't stand to be wrong, can you?"

"And you can't stand not to correct me," Alan fires back effortlessly, "And isn't it your bedtime by now?"

He says it in genuine curiosity, however condescending his word choice might be, and Eric realises at the same time that one; ancient Greek is probably Alan's first language, if he learned  _anything_  from countless hours spent in the mythology section of the library, and two; that there's a very good chance that Alan might be nocturnal, which both terrifies him and intrigues him further.

"Shouldn't you be asleep too?" Eric pries indirectly.

Alan shakes his head, "Not for a while." He replies, and  _dammit_ , he completely forgot about the physic thing, of  _course_ he's not going to answer properly, "You should go back, before someone starts worrying about you."

Eric gazes down at Alan one last time- there is no way in  _hell_ he dreamed all of this, his imagination just isn't that good, "I probably won't see you again, will I?"

Alan shrugs, "I don't know, it depends on how bored I am tomorrow."

"Charming."

"That's my job," Alan grins, "Now go back home. You're tired."

Eric really isn't a fan of taking orders, but something about them coming from a supernatural being, who's more than likely over ten centuries old, does put a slight sense of urgency on him.

He stands up, "If I ever see you again, I promise not to kick you in the face."

Alan laughs, "I'll hold you to that. Sleep well."

And, for the last few days he spends with Ronnie, he absolutely cannot shake the feeling that something is watching him.


End file.
